


Vegeta the Schoolgirl

by Sefiru



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Anal Sex, April Fools' Day, Crossdressing, Dating, High School, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Shopping, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 20:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sefiru/pseuds/Sefiru
Summary: Out of context quote: Vegeta clasped his hands under his chin and batted his lashes. “Prince Frieza, I think I’m pregnant, andyou’rethe father.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted as an April Fools on AdultFanFiction, in the days of yore.

“Remind me why this is necessary.”

“The uniform?” Vegeta’s valet smoothed the pleats on the dark blue skirt. “With the contract out on your head, your father thought a disguise – ”

Vegeta growled. “Not that. Remind me why I am not allowed to kick you in the dry, withered balls.” The fact that he was standing in front of a mirror in only a pair of pink lace panties ruined the effect of his glare. Those were also a part of his father’s orders. He grudgingly conceded that they were … supportive; however, he’d drawn the line at the padded bra. At least one shred of his dignity would survive this escapade.

“I am to pose as your guardian for the length of the school term.” Nappa shook out the uniform jacket and laid it next to the skirt. He held out the blouse; Vegeta grunted and put it on. At least it was white and blue. Then the skirt. Then the jacket, with its ludicrous sailor collar.

“Are we done?”

“The knee socks. And the loafers.” Vegeta put them on as well. “And the tail ribbon.”

It was pink. And frilly. Vegeta held it as if it was a small dead rodent. “Damn you, King Kold. And damn your assassins.” He tied it on.

Much to his annoyance, the mirror now showed a trim, athletic Saiyan girl. Even being flat-chested didn’t ruin the illusion. He tried out the new voice his father’s voice coach had managed to teach him before acquiring a broken collarbone. “At least I won’t blow the cover on the first day.” He swished his tail from side to side experimentally. He usually kept it around his waist, but that didn’t match the innocent schoolgirl image.

He caught sight of Nappa’s reflection in the mirror. The valet was standing stiffly, a bit purple in the face, his hands clasped suspiciously under his belt buckle. Vegeta’s eyebrows drew down as he turned around slowly. Nappa had the good sense to go pale.

“You may pretend to be my guardian, Nappa.” He took two steps forward. “But you are not allowed to find me attractive.” _Whunch._

Huh. The loafers had steel toe caps; he’d have to remember that.

*** 

“Everyone, please welcome our new transfer student, Vegeta daughter of Nappa. The teacher, a tall and dessicated Namek, scrawled his name on the board. The class erupted into questions, ranging from his favorite band to his measurements.

“I am not here for your entertainment, chumps.” He stalked to his assigned desk and sat down. Bad enough that he had to repeat his junior year of high school, instead of starting his degree; he was not going to associate with these hormone-soaked losers more than he needed to. The irony of the situation brought a smirk to his face; if his father ever found out about his real orientation, he’d be disowned on the spot. But here he was, posing as a female on the old man’s orders. And pre-calc was just as boring as he remembered.

By lunch break the irritation had faded to a sullen undertone. Vegeta collected a tray’s worth of processed meat substance, buttered carbohydrate, and steamed carrots, with a bottle of I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-spring-water to wash it down. _Quality private school, my ass._ He looked up from his meal as a tray clattered down across from him. Its owner was a girl with short blue hair.

“Hi. You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Bulma. I’m a senior.”

“Vegeta. Junior.”

“Anyway, you look like you could use a friend, whether you want one or not.”

“Oh joy, an extrovert.”

“But wait, there’s more! Order now, and I come with a brain.”

Vegeta chewed a carrot. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

“Really. I’m going to major in Cybernetics at Satan U next year. And boy am I glad to have a non-airhead around.”

They both winced at the giggle that erupted from the cheerleaders at the next table. “The frequency kills brain cells, I swear.” _When did this turn into a conversation?_

“No kidding. So, did you get to see The Great Saiyaman?”

“Nah, my dad won’t let me. He’s such a stuffed – ” A flash of orange caught Vegeta’s eye, and he turned to look. “…Da-amn.”

Bulma followed his gaze and smirked. “You’ve spotted Goku.” A Saiyan in an orange warmup suit had just walked into the cafeteria; he was tall enough that the top of his spiked hair brushed the door frame, and the muscles on his arms bulged out of his short-sleeved top. Said top also did not quite conceal a massive set of pecs, a lean, firm waist … and if Vegeta stood up right now, no one would ever mistake him for a woman.

“Vegeta. You’re drooling.”

“Hn.” He jammed a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth.

“You know, he’s captain of the football team.”

“Wonderful. I am turning into a soap opera character.” Vegeta clasped his hands under his chin and batted his lashes. “Prince Frieza, I think I’m pregnant, and _you’re_ the father.”

Bulma snorted milk up her nose. “Cliché aside, you could do a lot worse. If you can get him a clue, that is.”

“Hn.” A meathead, then. Vegeta’s gaze wandered over the athlete’s sleek tail and buttocks as he stood in the lunch line building a pyramid out of cheeseburgers on his tray. At least he made a nice piece of landscape.

*** 

Days passed. Vegeta easily fell back into the school routine; he exercised his creativity in throwing his math assignments. Bulma continued to draw him into conversation in spite of himself, and he was coming to enjoy her sarcasm. She discussed fashion with the same cogency as his father’s cronies talked about art. She also lent him a set of clip-on earrings. Before Vegeta noticed it, he’d been passing for female for two weeks.

Then one morning he found a note pushed under the door of his locker. “I know your secret. Please come to the school roof at lunch – K.” The handwriting was distinctive, big and loopy, but he didn’t recognize it. He didn’t know anyone at school whose name began with K. And he couldn’t exactly ask Bulma about it. He spent language class not listening to a droning lecture on the Journey to the West, and all of pre-calc staring into his workbook. How had he slipped up? Had he forgotten to disguise his voice, or had someone gotten a look up his skirt? He didn’t take PE, so they couldn’t have seen him changing. 

The day held two points in his favor: the weather was good, and the cafeteria had quesadillas. He bought three and a box of chocolate milk, and downed them before going up to the roof. He was the first to arrive; he walked over to the fence around the edge, which was the only place to sit. When he turned around, someone was between him and the door. And he couldn’t mistake those broad, orange-clad shoulders; he’d only been ogling them for the last two weeks. Goku.

“You showed up. Vegeta, son of Nappa, right?”

 

Vegeta scowled. “How did you figure it out?”

Goku scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have. You make a really convincing girl,” Gee thanks, “It’s just that I have the best gaydar of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Vegeta looked him up and down. “Gay. You.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m so deep in the closet I know all the dust bunnies by name. So I thought we could help each other out.”

“So you’re not trying to blackmail me.”

“What? No!” Vegeta decided to step closer to him; he was intrigued by Goku’s figure. Er, words.

“So what do you want?”

“Well. Uh. Will you go out with me?”

All of Vegeta’s tail fur stood straight out. The school hunk was asking him on a date. He could actually date someone he liked without his father having apoplexy. “Hang on – who’s K?”

“Oh, that’s me. Kakarott, son of Bardock; Goku’s just a nickname.”

“Kakarott. I like it,” Vegeta said in his normal voice, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. Goku groaned.

“Keep … keep talking like that.” Goku clutched his shoulder with one hand, and a large bulge appeared in his sweatpants. He led Vegeta around to the side of the stairwell, where they were less likely to be seen.

“Turns you on, hn?” Vegeta let his tail flick over the taller Saiyan’s rear. A shudder went through both of them. “I admit, you’re more well-mannered than the usual football goons.”

“Good, there’s enough jocks on the team already.” Goku had his hand on Vegeta’s thigh. “You mind if I – ”

“If you don’t go further, I will be forced to hurt you.”

Goku’s hand slid higher. This time Vegeta groaned as the fingers squeezed his package and pulled away the lace covering it. His cock sprang free, hard and quivering. “Oh yeah,” Goku purred. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Cross – ngh! – cross-dressing fetish, hn?”

“Uh-huh.” He wrapped his hand around Vegeta’s shaft, still surrounded by the pleated skirt, and stroked with the fabric up and down. Vegeta’s tail thrashed, searching for a secure grip. It wrapped around Goku’s thigh; he used his free hand to ruffle its fur. “I’m gonna – ” he bent down and licked the tip of Vegeta’s cock.

Vegeta fell back against the wall of the stairwell. Kami! He’d fantasized about this, but he hadn’t imagined the heat, the moisture – he slid all the way into Goku’s throat Heat pooled in his balls; he roared as he came. Goku pulled off him, licking away the last drops. “Mmmm, that tastes better than I thought it would.”

“That – was your – first time?”

“Uh-huh.” Goku tucked him back into his panties and smoothed his skirt down over them. Vegeta noticed that there was still a tent in the front of his orange pants. He snaked the tip of his tail under the waistband and came up on his target from behind. Goku yelped, “What the?”

“You didn’t think I’d just leave you hanging, did you?” He cut off any chance for a reply by pulling Goku down into a real kiss. With tongue. It seemed the movie s were right about something – to his delight, the athlete practically melted on top of him. He barely lasted as long as Vegeta had, between the lips and the curious tail. Vegeta caught his fluid on his fur, pulled his tail out and sucked on it. “Hn. You’re right.”

“Uh …” Goku’s eyes bulged, his brain apparently running in neutral. “Friday? Movie?”

“It’s a deal.” Vegeta went back to his girl voice and whispered, “And afterward, I am going to plow your ass with my thick, hard cock.” He added a giggle, for effect; while Goku tried to recover his higher functions, he walked away down the stairs, flicking the tip of his tail behind him. He was going to enjoy this term.


	2. Movie Night

Vegeta rifled through his wardrobe for something less ludicrous than the sailor suit uniform. Unfortunately, his father (or his father’s spymaster) had not considered the possibility of his going anywhere other than school in his female guise. All he had was blue pleated skirts and white blouses. There was nothing for it: he was going to have to face that baffling and esoteric female art known as Shopping. He picked up the phone, cleared his throat to settle his girl voice in place, and dialed.

“Hey, Bulma, it’s Vegeta …. Good, thanks. Guess what – I’ve got a date with Goku! … I guess something about me caught his eye. Anyway, I’ve got nothing but these stupid uniforms … Yeah. Is tomorrow after school good? … Thanks, Bulma.” He hung up feeling faintly amused with himself. When his father first ordered this charade, he had flown into a rage which led to a hasty remodeling of the ancestral family home. Now he was voluntarily expanding on the role; and all for the chance of getting laid.

*** 

The following day was as stultifying as any other day at school. The Namek literature teacher managed to make a text from Shakespeare, made up entirely of crude insults, sound about as racy as the tax code. Vegeta amused himself during math by writing half of the answers upside down; at lunch he faced down the Brussels sprouts of sulfurous doom. He didn’t share any classes with Goku, so the most he got was a smoldering look across the cafeteria or a flick of the tail in the hall. He waited until the end of the day to tell Nappa of his plans: “Hey ‘Dad’, I’m going shopping with a friend. See you at dinner.” He hung up on Nappa’s squawk and dropped his phone in his bookbag.

Bulma caught up with him at the school gate and they decamped to the mall. “I’ve got a few ideas of what to look for,” the blue-haired girl said. “I mean, you’re not the type to go all frills and lace.”

“Hn. No. But I’d like something a _little_ more girly.” _And no one must ever know I just said that._

“And since you’re, uh,”

“Flat as a board.” It was the major weak point of his disguise. “Think you can add some shape without making me top-heavy?”

Bulma nodded vigorously. “A touch of lace, a little gather at the neck; oh, and a tailored jacket to define the waist – I know just the look for you.”

The things he did to get some tail. “You aren’t jealous about this date, are you?”

“Ew, no. It would be like dating my brother.” Bulma wrinkled her nose.

“Then lead on, McDuff.” 

Bulma laughed, and pointed dramatically at the mall entrance. “And damned be she who first cries hold, enough!”

*** 

He returned to his home several hours later, weighed down with garments of all kinds and quite a bit lighter in the wallet; this was the arsenal he would use to turn Goku’s mind into mush. Nappa was waiting for him when he came in, and greeted him with an apoplectic shriek.

“What in Kami’s name is that?”

“It’s a shopping bag, you imbecile.” One which bore the logo of a well-known lingerie retailer, in fact. While Nappa was still spluttering on the mat, Vegeta stalked up to his room to put on sweatpants.

*** 

Friday passed by in a blur. He found another note in his locker at lunch hour: “Meet me at the Kame House Cinema at six. I’m bringing the lube. – K.” His panties were uncomfortably tight for the rest of the day. Bulma teased him about being so out of it. But he hardly cared; Goku, the most handsome, most built (and secretly gayest) hunk in the school, was his for the taking. And he could finally get rid of his pesky virginity.

When school let out he went home and immediately shut himself in his room. He rushed through what passed for his homework, then stepped into the shower to start preparing for his date.

His outfit was the result his and Bulma’s careful plotting. First, a fresh pair of support panties. Then the deep blue skirt, shorter than his school skirt; a matching camisole with just a touch of lace and gather, which, as Bulma had said, gave illusory volume to his chest. Over it, he had a white denim jacket that flared at the hip and made him look like he had a waist. The usual ankle socks with lace trim, and patent leather ballet flats. For the first time in his life he was wearing jewelry, a simple shell pendant, as well as another tail ribbon, which was turquoise rather than pink. He had had quite enough pink. Finally, and absolutely essential given his lack of pockets, a purse of fake snakeskin. He surveyed his reflection and nodded. _If that doesn’t blow Goku’s mind, I’ll eat my socks._

Now, for a test run. He made his way downstairs, where Nappa was reading the business news and drinking coffee. He did a gratifying spit take when he saw the young prince. “Vegeta! What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m going out. Like a normal person.”

“But – but – King Kold – the contract – ”

Vegeta snorted. “Like the school is any safer.” And he could fight perfectly well in a skirt, if he had to. He slinked to the door, waving his tail behind him. “Don’t wait up.” The door closed on whatever Nappa was going to answer.

He arrived in front of the cinema five minutes before the appointed time and leaned against a wall to wait. A short time later, he spotted the black hair spikes above the crowd. “Hey, Goku,” he called. He knew the precise moment when the athlete saw him, because Goku’s eyes bugged out like saucers. Vegeta smirked, checked that nobody was watching him speak, and continued in his normal voice, “See something you like, Kakarott?”

“Uh … ah …” He really wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box, but then that wasn’t why Vegeta was seeing him. Was he ever seeing him. In skin-tight, hip-hugging jeans, and an orange muscle shirt that had to be made of spray paint. Vegeta growled and pulled Goku’s head down for a kiss, at the same time squeezing that delicious ass.

“So, shall we?”

“Well, uh, I thought we could go for pizza first.”

“You had better not mean Pizza Hut.”

Goku shuddered. “Oh, please. I take food seriously, and pizza even seriouser.”

“Is that a word?”

“Hey, football player here. I is educated good.” 

The pizza place, which was just across from the theater, had actual tables and chairs made of honest-to-goodness wood. There were crisp white tablecloths on every table, giant pepper grinders rising like minarets above them. Vegeta surprised himself by being impressed. “And for a minute I thought you were being a cheapass about this.”

“Like I said, serious.” Goku studied the menu. “Too bad we’re too young to get wine … uh, aren’t we?”

Vegeta grinned. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.” 

“Thought it might be like that.”

“It’s all disgustingly legal, by the way. I don’t even get the glamour of a crook on the run.”

Goku snorted. The waiter (there only seemed to be one) approached their table; “Ah, signore Kakarott,” he said in an affected Italian accent. “What may I bring-a you and-a your companion?”

“Ditch the fake accent, Yamcha, you sound like Super Mario. Um, a large Godfather’s Special, please.”

Vegeta was about to protest Goku ordering for him when the waiter turned to him. “And for yourself, miss?”

“The basil mushroom. Personal size,” Vegeta said. And as the waiter left, “How are you not spherical by now?” 

“Fast metabolism?”

*** 

The pizza was, indeed, excellent. And the sight of Goku slurping up trailing strings of cheese did interesting things below Vegeta’s belt. They emerged from the restaurant in time to join the growing queue in front of the theater. “I’ll get the tickets,” Goku said.

“Is this an attempt at chivalry?”

“Nah, employee discount.” They reached the front of the line, and the shrimp in the ticket box greeted them with,

“What, Goku, you finally got a date? About time.”

“Totally worth the wait, Krillin.” Goku scratched the back of his neck.

Vegeta unaccountably felt his face heat up. To compensate, he growled, “I should make you wait longer for a lame line like that.” Goku just grinned at him.

They spent the next two hours watching giant robots tear each other to pieces on screen, and groping each other under cover of darkness. Once the credits rolled, Goku led Vegeta through a door marked Staff Only, and from there up two flights of stairs to an unremarkable door with a green card hanging from the doorknob. Goku flipped the card over to a red Do Not Disturb, and held the door open for Vegeta.

Inside was shabbily furnished with TV and stand, coffee table, rug and battered futon. The walls were lined with bookshelves covered with drop cloths.

“What are all these shelves?” Vegeta asked, dropping the girl voice now that they were in private. 

Goku locked the door. “It’s the boss’s porn collection. Don’t ask.”

Vegeta picked up a DVD case that was lying on top of the television. “I was an ice-jin sex slave?”

“Seriously, don’t ask.”

Vegeta shrugged and kicked his shoes into the corner. Then he flopped down on the futon and crossed his arms. “All right. Off with it.”

Goku grinned. “Yes, sir!” He pulled off his shoes and socks – there was no way to make that sexy – and then peeled the muscle shirt over his head. Vegeta licked his lips. Slick, sculpted, steaming skin … Goku unbuttoned the back of his pants, then the front. Then he bent over to give Vegeta a prime view of his butt and tail as he slid his jeans down. 

Vegeta’s own tail was bristled out from root to tip. He reached out for Goku’s wrist and pulled him down on the futon. “My turn.” He took off those ridiculous lacy socks, and then shed his jacket. Goku’s eyes were saucer-wide again; his chest was rising and falling sharply, and his cock (tasty, tasty cock) was twitching with every breath. Smirking, Vegeta reached under his skirt and pulled his panties down. His cock immediately sprang free and made a tent in the front of his skirt.

Goku groaned. “Fuck, I can’t take it anymore.” He rolled onto his elbows and knees, tail arched over his back. Reaching under the end of the futon, he came up with a bottle of lube. “Do me now, Vegeta.”

“I don’t know.” Vegeta squeezed lube onto his fingers and pressed them to Goku’s hole; it almost seemed to suck them in. “I still have to get you for that worth the wait comment.” But his voice was ragged, and he knew Goku wasn’t fooled. He squeezed out more lube and smeared it on his cock. He’d been hard for the last three hours and he was not going to put this off any longer. He lined up the tip of his cock with Goku’s hole and pushed …

… and reading about this on the internet didn’t do this justice. Goku was tight and moist and hot inside. His muscles milked Vegeta’s shaft of their own accord. Kami, he wasn’t going to last long – and by the sound of it, neither was Goku. His moans were jumbled with incoherent begging. Well, since he was asking so nicely … Vegeta grasped the firm, toned hips and thrust in with all his strength. Goku screamed. Oh, yes. Vegeta could feel the climax building already, his skirt brushing across Goku’s back with every stroke. Goku suddenly locked up around him, shooting seed across the floor and rippling his inner muscles. That was too much; Vegeta shot deep into Goku’s body as stars exploded across his vision.

 

He came off his high, panting, and pulled out. Goku had turned into a Saiyan-shaped puddle on the futon, and Vegeta curled up around him. With his girl-voice he said, “Manly enough for you?”

The only response was a satisfied purr.


End file.
